


Full Moon

by Cirilla Godefroy (Cumbersnatched)



Series: The Vampire of Kaer Morhen [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Full Moon, Light Angst, Strength Training, mean trainers, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumbersnatched/pseuds/Cirilla%20Godefroy
Summary: Geralt trains --HARD--and wants to talk about his day with his second best friend but he's nowhere to be found...Instead he takes it out on Eskel. Then said friend returns early in the morning!





	Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is fun. I really enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Warning:  
Mild insinuation about stuff that happens when Dettlaff is out enjoying himself during the Full Moon lol

Today was the day of the full moon and Geralt _hated_ full moons. Burningly and with a passion! Every full moon, without fail, the Masters were angry—agitated. Ruthless. As if the moon had offended them somehow and they had to take it out on the trainees!

Some of his cohort speculated that it might be a result of being cooped up in the castle, others mentioned it may be a result of the trials…He didn’t really care for the reason. All he cared about was that Varin turned into a major jerk—more so than he’d already been.

“C’mon you whelps put your backs into it!!!” the Master yelled across the yard at them all.

They were made to be doing planks, as slowly but surely, Varin and a few other older witchers stacked sacks of flour on their backs and down their length. It was a cruel, tension building exercise that strained every dang muscle in his body!

Geralt already had one row lined up from his shoulders to his ankles, barely making him sag. The extra weight had him trembling just slightly and sweat beaded his brow. His cohort was too young to have gone through any trials yet, so all the stamina and strength of muscles within them were purely human. No extras.

So they were struggling.

Eskel was next to him, looking determined. Geralt but glanced at his best friend out of the corner of his eye and that was it. Eskel was smart, and he was gifted at signs. But he didn’t have Geralt’s stamina or ability to focus in high stress situations--at least not yet. Speaking of focus, he doubled down on his efforts as the second sack of the second row was placed on his lower back.

He heard a trainee groan and collapse under the weight of the sacks several yards away, and Geralt sharpened his concentration. Closing his eyes, he tried to meditate past the tension and burn in his muscles—tried to forget the way his body screamed at him and look past the ache in his back. Geralt thought of strong arms holding him tight, offering him support and protection. The feeling gave him the strength he needed to meditate past the last of the second row that was placed on his ankles.

Time for the third row.

Over half his cohort lay in sprawled heaps and were buried by sacks of flower. Each received a tongue lashing by Master Varin for being weak—_worthless_. The Master Witcher kicked a few who lay panting, and promised a few others hours of extra clean up.

Geralt didn’t want extra chores, and he wasn’t weak or worthless either! Maybe he had been in the past. Maybe that’s why he’d been brought to Kaer Morhen. But he wasn’t any longer!

The first of the third row was placed on his shoulders and he bit his lip to stifle a groan from the strain.

The second came soon after. A few other trainees collapsed around him. He could hear Eskel whining against the pressure.

The third rested atop his hips and Geralt felt them sag, his back nearly giving out. His teeth drew blood from his lip as he refused to give in. Eskel cried out next to him, finally collapsing beneath the pile stacked atop him.

The fourth lay at his ankles. He was the last one planking, at least he thought so anyway.

The fourth row started. The sack lay on his shoulders. His arms were locked in place, refusing to give in as sweat dripped down into his eyes. But when the second sack hit his lower back it gave out against his will and he cried out as his cheek hit the ground.

Laying there he panted with his eyes closed, breathing in dirt and dust as his body screamed at him.

“Not bad young pup.” Varin said—probably the closest he’d ever get to a compliment from the Master.

“You all put these sacks back, then get cleaned up for supper. Except for those who I assigned extra chores to. Now git!”

A few groans and mumbled complaints sounded from around him, but Geralt didn’t have to be told twice. Eskel had already helped remove enough of the sacks that he could push himself off the ground and aid in the clean-up. Geralt licked at his throbbing lip as they each grabbed a sack and Eskel eyed him dubiously.

“You always have to one up me, don’t you?”

“Of course, Eskel. Wouldn’t be—fun otherwise.” Geralt stuttered as he was still recovering. Eskel was better at signs, but Geralt had higher stamina. Eskel _knew_ Geralt would beat him this round.

Geralt set his sack down in the pile and wiped his lip and chin with the back of his hand which came away slightly bloody. He was all sweaty, and dirt clung to his brow and cheek. He _really_ wanted to wash up before dinner...

“I need to work on my stamina…” Eskel grumbled as their cohort finished picking up the rest of the flour sacks.

Grinning, Geralt belted out a quick challenge. “Okay, then race you to the keep Eskel!” He stuck his tongue out at his friend and took off at a sprint, legs screaming at him all the while.

“Not that kind of stamina Geralt!” Eskel’s annoyed voice yelled from behind him, both amused and pained at the thought of running, he was sure.

Geralt chuckled as he kept on, feeling better than he had in a while, despite the burn in his muscles. It wasn’t often he topped out a training session on a full moon!

~_~_~_~_~_~

After supper, he and Eskel trudged out of the hall with full bellies. One perk of the full moon—the witchers didn’t ration their meals so well. So Geralt was feeling sleepy, though he was still elated. He wanted to go tell Dettlaff what happened that day before he went to bed, he parted from Eskel with the promise to return shortly. He kind of missed the scowl from his best friend as he turned towards the north tower—though mostly he chose to ignore it.

Geralt took the now familiar crumbling steps two at a time, his foot hold on them sure, so he reached the top in no time. Dettlaff’s worn door was closed though, and the normally present glimmer of firelight was nonexistent, which was very unusual. He approached the door cautiously, not sure what to expect and he creaked it open.

The inside of Dettlaff’s chamber was dark and lit only by the glow of the full moon through an opened window. Geralt eyed the bed hopefully, but it was still made. He wasn’t asleep. Creeping forward he inspected the hearth, which was set, ready to be lit when Dettlaff returned.

The vampire had gone…somewhere.

Hmm.

Well, maybe he went out to gather herbs under the full moon? For certain herbs there was a special significance in doing so…

Shrugging, he went over to Dettlaff’s work space and grabbed a piece of parchment and quill to scribble a note.

_Hi Detty. _

_ Beat Eskel at training and earned a compliment from Varin today._

_ Hope you’re okay._

_ Miss you._

_ -Geralt_

Smiling, he carefully put away the quill away, then weighted down the slip of paper so a random guest of wind wouldn’t blow it away and skipped out of Dettlaff’s chamber back down to his own.

Eskel had been laying in his bunk and sat up as he entered. His eyebrows shot up in question.

“He wasn’t there.” Geralt said, sounding slightly disappointed as hee pulled off his boots and stuck them in the corner by the door, then his nasty socks which he stuck inside the bag they kept their dirty laundry in.

“Yah? It is the full moon. I’m sure it holds some sort of significance to him, like with the witchers.”

“Possibly.” Geralt stripped down to his braies, and tossed his dirties in the same bag. Then he sat on the edge of Eskel’s bed with a tired huff.

“Good training today,” Eskel complimented lightly, making Geralt feel fairly smug.

“Mhmm…I beat you.” Geralt smirked and glanced over, rubbing it in—not something he got to do very often.

“For today, _pup_.” Eskel stuck his tongue out at him teasingly and his brown eyes glittered with mirth.

Geralt glared over at Eskel and narrowed his eyes. “You’re a pup too.”

“Maybe, but I don’t sleep with a _toy_,” Eskel mocked him with a grin.

Geralt growled and launched himself at Eskel. His friend _never_ mentioned Roach! But he knew Eskel was joking—poking the bear—So Geralt used it as an excuse to rough him up a bit--attempting to pin him down.

He wasn’t very successful, tired as he was. They play fought and wrestled until both of them fell into a sweaty heap on the bed—all their excess energy finally spent.

Geralt lay there panting with his cheek pressed into Eskel’s heaving chest. “You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah well…you asked for it. Show off.” A hand twitched nearby, probably itching to punch him in the shoulder still.

He laughed tiredly and closed his eyes. “Can’t you just let me have a moment, for once?”

“Tch, can’t do that. Ever. You might get a big head.”

“Mhmm...It’s too late for that ain’t it?” He was getting tired, the time for talking was almost over—_preferably._ Or he’d have to elbow Eskel in the side soon.

“Takes one to know one right?”

Scowling, he shushed Eskel. Too tired for banter dang it. “Shhhh…Can I just—“

He didn’t even have to finish before Eskel cut him off and laughed tiredly. “Ya sure, s’fine.”

Finally allowing himself to sag with exhaustion, he curled himself into a more comfortable position against Eskel and allowed his aching body to go limp. “G’night Eskel,” he mumbled as he threw an arm around his best friend, then sighed in relief at the knowledge that despite their strenuous training there would be no nightmares that night.

“Night Geralt. Sleep well.” He felt Eskel pull the linens over them and then wrap a strong arm around him. Geralt relaxed then, and soon both their breathing evened out and sleep overtook them.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Dettlaff returned in the early morning hours as the moon sank behind the mountains of Kaer Morhen. Sluggishly, his mist form drifted through the open window and changed back to his base form. He even wobbled slightly, he was so sated, content and exhausted. Reaching out a clawed hand, he braced himself against his work station and willed the spinning in his head and humming of his body to subside. He hadn’t felt this _good_ in what seemed like ages.

After a moment, he went to the hearth and lit the kindling with practiced ease, then sank himself into the chair nearby. He relaxed and closed his eyes as the chair wrapped around him almost like a glove and he sank into it, drained. Literally. He hadn’t been the only one to have some fun that night.

While the fire roared to life, he remembered his moonlit evening with lingering fondness. The Bruxa he’d come across, lithe as a cat and with the same predatory instincts. She’d come upon him gathering herbs, even knowing she didn’t have a chance. He’d toyed with her for a time, allowing her to think she might best him. After a while he got bored and got on with it, overpowering her and pinning her down, making her submit—then inviting her to join him on the hunt, share his kill—and then everything else that happened afterwards.

Not a typical moonlit evening for him. Normally he’d gather herbs, or fly alone, losing himself to his senses. He got lucky this time—it had been a treat.

Drawing in a deep breath, he smiled. He still smelt her all over him. She’d been a very nice treat indeed.

He lingered on that thought for a few more minutes before he blinked and forced himself to sit forward. He tried not to dwell on the past unnecessarily. There was no point, except for learning, and he’d nothing to learn from that encounter, pleasant as it was.

Forcing himself to leave the comfort of his chair, he went over to the table in the corner and pulled out some ingredients for a spiced tea, then set the kettle to boil. That was when he noticed a piece of parchment out of place on his work station, weighed down by a bottle of ink he hadn’t put there.

Intrigued, and also wondering why someone was in his chambers, he moved the bottle and lifted the parchment off his desk.

It was short, and scribbled in uneven and unpracticed writing but it was undeniable who had been there.

Little Geralt, the wolf pup he’d become so fond of. Dettlaff let out a genuine toothy smile and carefully folded the paper which he tucked safely away in a drawer. His heart felt lighter just thinking of the young boy and his odd habits that he found so endearing. He couldn’t help but to indulge him.

It all started with that silly toy, which he gifted to the pup when he arrived upon seeing how sad he'd been, and then fixed a couple years later. After that the little human would occasionally visit, considering the Vampire of Kaer Morhen his friend—asking him questions about why he was there, and what he was doing. Dettlaff was usually pretty vague in response, but he was beginning to learn to open up, slowly. Especially when the child came to him in the middle of the night a few months past.

Little Geralt had been so shaken, and nervous, explaining why he’d snuck into his room in the dead of night. His voice had been tentative and embarrassed. Dettlaff listened without judgement, intrigued and patient. Turns out the pup was lonely and pining for his Mother…having nightmares…Had sought him--a vampire--to be comforted!

It made his heart soar and he gladly obliged. He understood the little human all too well.

Dettlaff had been lonely too, and he was elated to make a friend. When the boy asked him to be friends after fixing his horse, he thought it silly and frivolous. Thinking maybe being friends with a vampire was a novelty to the boy—but Dettlaff was quickly proved wrong, time and again as the child kept returning.

Now little Geralt wrote him a note that showed he cared and expressed longing--that he missed him.

It was precious.

When the kettle started boiling, he went back to it with a new spring in his step, glad to have something more to look forward to—watching the young pup grow up at Kaer Morhen.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Eskel and Geralt rough housing. So adorable!
> 
> And Dettlaff--getting laid. Ah ha. A guy has needs right, especially during 'his time of the month!'
> 
> I enjoyed writing Dettlaff's thought process on this one, and the developing fondness he's feeling for Geralt. So cute.
> 
> Please let me know if you like :3
> 
> Again, if you're following this series for 100% fluff. I want to warn you it will go away at points in very harsh ways. Be warned lol


End file.
